Note: Thank you to all of those new to this story and those who have returned! I am also going to start providing in-text translations for French and have actually re-uploaded chapter 10 with translations. I hope you enjoy and comments are truly appreciated!
See Chapter 2 for a brief mention of Bridget's vision ;)
"I did not know when it would begin…or with who…but it is worse than I feared. If this evil has taken hold of a muggle, and one so notable as Monsieur Delacour…it will be like the Burning Times before we know it," Bridget's voice cracked with anguish as she hung her head and covered her face with her hands.
"The Delacours are a magical family…" Hermione said softly. She had thought that maybe this would not have been a surprise to Bridget given that she was a seer as well as insufferably nosey. The younger witch had simply assumed that Bridget would have already discovered this and would gloatingly make that apparent when Hermione detailed the previous evening's venture. But the older witch's head snapped up and her eyes bore into Hermione like hot steel.
"What?" Bridget all but shouted.
"Yes, Monsieur Delacour is a wizard and Madame Delacour and Mademoiselle Delacour they are witches and V—" Hermione caught herself, the words stalling in her throat. Her mother's voice hissed softly That is not your secret to share, Hermione. "Very powerful ones," Hermione finished, hoping in her frazzled state that Bridget would not have sensed her last-second omission. Bridget stood swiftly from her chair and began bustling back to the rear of her house without another word. Hermione sat, for several seconds, in dumbfounded fear. When she snapped from her stupor, she quickly gave chase, and found Bridget in her library; a small room concealed behind a magical barrier, that to muggles would look like nothing more than an unremarkable part of the wall between the bedroom and the kitchen. But the room was anything but ordinary; it was filled to the brim with books, seer's charts, star tables, crystal balls, and potioneer's materials. When Hermione entered the room, Bridget was crouched closely over her seer's charts, rifling through them, comparing figures, muttering under her breath. For once, unsure of how to help, what to do, Hermione simply stood silently in the doorway. Moments that seemed like eternities later, Bridget stopped. She drew a deep breath, and looked up at Hermione, who could see the watery sheen of tears dancing at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall.
"Do you remember the day you came here, the day I told you the old magic had spoken to me, that it had revealed a…possibility…one that I could not even speak to you? Well, I saw someone… someone I now know, thanks to you, to be Monsieur Delacour, in the clutches of a curse. A curse, that would seek to spread, to infest and infect…The stars, the charts, the old magic, it is not always…certain. So, I had hoped it would be a mistake, but—"
"But too much has come true for it to be wrong, for there to be another possibility…" Hermione finished for her. Bridget nodded curtly, and a tear freed itself, cascading down her cheek. Bridget cleared her throat, and swiftly wiped the tear from her cheek, and drew in a steadying breath.
"But there is hope. The fact that the first victim is a wizard…it helps. If the curse were to have found a muggle as its host, you know as well as I do that not only would it have spread like wildfire, but every outcast, the old, the sick, the disliked, the foreign, anyone outside the protection of Puritanical privilege, well, they would've been the first lambs to the slaughter. But the Delacours, they will know this. I am assuming that is why Mademoiselle Delacour came to you in the night. As not to be noticed. So, you will continue to help them in secret, yes? As we try to find the cause of this evil?" Hermione simply nodded, her brain absolutely whirring with questions, fears, plans. "Good," Bridget stood straighter now and began collecting some charts and tables in front of her. "Well, what are you standing there for? I have work to do. And so don't you. You should know better than anyone that Elizabeth Parris doesn't like to be kept waiting." Bridget smirked and waved her hand at Hermione in a shooing motion. Hermione nodded, the clouds of questions in her brain now dissipating. Clear headed once again, she turned and marched towards the kitchen, gathering her things and donning her overcoat once again. As she opened the door, preparing herself to step out into the cold and make the trek to the Parris home, the tightness of her worried lips softened into a smile as she heard hollered from within the house,
"And just because our entire village might be plagued by dark magic, that doesn't mean I don't still expect my fresh bread in the morning!"